


It's Not Over (Before It's too Late)

by QueenoftheRandomWord42



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Art by decidedlyartsy, Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2018, Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, Inspired by Art, Major Character Death Foiled by Time Travel, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Time Travel, well except for one bad guy but he's an OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 17:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheRandomWord42/pseuds/QueenoftheRandomWord42
Summary: When an invention of Shuri's gets stolen by Hydra and abused from its original purpose to facilitate an assassination in 1935, Sam, Clint, and Natasha have to rush back in time to prevent sixteen-year-old Steve Rogers from being assassinated, and what will happen when they find out the Assassin sent back in time, was the Winter Soldier?Time Travel AU





	It's Not Over (Before It's too Late)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, here's my first entry of the Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2018 entry, and special thanks to the Slack for all their support, [my wonderful Artist decidedlyartsy ](http://decidedlyartsy.tumblr.com/), and my beta reader [ awpurpleno](https://awpurpleno.tumblr.com/) for all your help in making this fic possible.  
> Title inspired by the Green Day Song "Letter Bomb"

***Classified, 2018***

The klaxons blared and boomed throughout the dark cement walls echoing and causing eardrums to ring and Shuri’s bones to rattle as she watched her older brother run down the hallway with Sargent Barnes at his heels. The hallways were illuminated by the flashing red alarm lights that pulsed like a panicking heartbeat.

Over the klaxons, the Intercoms of the Hydra commander shouting orders over the clamor but Shuri’s ears were ringing too much for her to understand what was being yelled.

“Shuri, do you see the time-suspenders?” T’Challa asked his sister when they passed into the room.

“No,” Shuri whispered, she could almost feel the moist chill of the facility in her lab back in Wakanda, and she searched the feeds desperately for her invention. It was invented to preserve vaccines as part of Wakandan Outreach program, but unfortunately Nakia found evidence that a shipment had been tampered with and the technology was stolen, and Nakia and the Avengers, the group of superheroes working under an uneasy truce, had tracked it to this one facility where there appeared to be engineers trying to reverse engineer her work.

Stark was somewhere hacking the computers, but even he managed to converge with the others cutting off another room.

The feeds gave way to a large lab that had many lab benches in disarray as a scientist tried desperately to dispose of the evidence.

Another threw a beaker at her brother, but Bucky blocked it before Captain Rogers leaped in front of them to shield them using one of the Shields Shuri engineered herself to block an Erlenmeyer flask at them. Shuri saw the sulfuric acid label on the floor and sighed a relief at her decision to give that Shield that additional protective coat.

The Scientists then began to dash out an additional emergency exit before the Black Widow appeared like a phantom, and a third exit was blocked by The Falcon. One of the scientist’s hands were pulled back behind him and Ant-man appeared from the man’s wrist to his full size.

“You’re under arrest.” Scott Laing announced, and in his spare hand he dropped what looked like a tooth and crushed it under his boot.

The captured Scientist cursed, and Shuri was glad at least one of the thieves got to pay for messing with her technology.

But the first scientist wasn’t contained yet.

But instead of yelling out swearing of vengeance or that he could not be contained, he plugged one of Shuri’s time-suspenders, which resembled a little a cicada into one of his machines.

Then a portal opened, glowing bright blue-green and fuzzy, and Shuri felt her stomach sink.

“’Challa, stop him!” She shouted over the coms, she had a feeling she knew what he was doing.

The HYDRA scientist rushed into the portal, with the Black Widow, Falcon and Hawkeye at his heels before the Portal quivered.

Steve screamed, and Shuri watched in horror as Captain America shrank into a teenager, rail thin with bird bones sticking out in awkward adolescent angles before a massive gouge appeared above his hairline. The teenager clutched his head, before Shuri’s heart sputtered in terror as she heard a bone crack and he fell his neck at an odd angle.

Then she was startled to see over the cameras that Bucky’s arm had turned in to the silver monstrosity instead of her black and gold version, the red star appearing, before the winter soldier fell dead, a bullet hole and fresh blood appeared to leak from the wound.

“Hurry! Enter the code into the time-suspender, we need to have that portal stabilized!”

“I’ve got it Shuri!” T’Challa answered, quickly entering the code, and to his horror, as he was trying to stabilize the machinery, Stark disappeared. Laing frantically took Stark’s place and Shuri felt the world shift, and a strong instinct of hers kept telling her to keep fighting.

***Siberia Russia, 1991 ***

When Sam, Natasha, and Clint tumbled through the portal, Sam felt the icy air rush behind him. The time portal closed behind them with the last gust of hot air behind them vanishing.

And they were surrounded by a bunch of armed men with Hydra insignias and Cyrillic lettering.

And staring at him was the scientist and another man with a red beret and uniform. From what Sam could remember from nights of drunken catharsis, and Barnes having the luck of a serum that could get him drunk, Sam could only suppose that the man with the red beret could only be Aleksander Lukin.

“See? I told you I was being pursued by enemies from the future,” the Scientist said aloud in English gesturing to the others, but before Sam could run forward or could fight, Lukin gestured to his soldiers.

The fight was brief enough to for them to be quickly captured. Arms were pulled behind backs and tied with plastic ties. Mouths were gagged, and guns were pointed at their heads in the kneeling position.

Sam could see that Clint and Natasha kept their eyes open, ready for an opportunity to present themselves.

“So, you brought weak enemies to our door,” Lukin sneered with a cold Russian accent. “Why should that be any reason for us to listen to you, so-called Doctor Joshua Brubaker?”

“Because if you don’t, Hydra will fall.” The scientist, who Sam could only suppose was the Doctor Brubaker, answered, his voice growing in confidence. To prove his point, he reached into his pocket, one hand up to show surrender with faint clicking from his lab coat pocket and pulled out the last two missing time-suspenders. “I stole these from those blasted panthers, they invented time travel, and were too short-sighted to use them to their full potential.”

Sam felt offense of Shuri’s behalf, and Sam could feel Clint wiggle in indignation.

“But if you don’t believe me, look at my fellow time travelers, I think you’ll find the woman looks familiar. After the fall of the Soviet Union, she took to calling herself ‘Natasha Romanoff’, but if you look through your records I think you’ll find her to be ‘Natalia Romanova’.”

Sam could feel Natasha freeze, and ice seized his insides, if the Soviets got their hands on young Natasha, Sam didn’t want to know what they would do to her.

Lukin simply barked orders in Russian, and within moments a file was brought in, and Lukin disinterestedly leafed through the files to pull out a picture, which he compared to Natasha’s face.

Sam glanced and saw an expressionless portrait of a seven-year-old ballerina with the same red hair and green eyes.

“If you are indeed telling the truth,” Lukin continued in English, addressing Dr. Brubaker, “what do you expect us to do?”

“Hydra was doomed the moment Erskine succeeded in finding the ideal super soldier candidate, a man who fit Erskine’s arrogant ideal of what a man should be. That decision born of hubris assumed that that one man alone was worth enough to receive the serum and be Johann Schmidt’s rival, but Captain Rogers was efficient in taking down the Red Skull and…. Leaving a legacy that was enough to break Hydra’s global grasp right before that grasp could be secured in 2014.” Dr. Brubaker explained.

“So, what does that have to do with now? Why come back here, why not tell us how to foil the events of 2014?” Lukin demanded.

Dr. Brubaker sighed, “It’s not that easy, the events of 2014 were already in motion since the early 40s, and in some ways since the late 1930s. It’s too late at this point without further time travel, and you have the one tool we didn’t have in 2018, or in 1940.”

“What is that?”

“The Winter Soldier.”

“No,” Sam muttered through his gag, but the sounds were incomprehensible even to his own ears.

“Absolutely not,” Lukin scoffed, “Why don’t you use the Asset from your time? You should have been able to keep him in good condition.”

“When the Soviet Union fell, the Asset was mismanaged, and we… lost him for good in 2014 when Hydra was exposed,” Brubaker explained, and Lukin looked like he was considering the other man’s words. “If we act fast, no one will know, or see it coming.”

Sam suddenly remembered in a flash of horror, remembering seeing Steve shrink down to a small blonde teenager before he collapsed in a dead heap.

And what happened to Bucky looked like he was simply executed…

Sam carefully and slowly moved his hands to rest between his feet as he straightened his back.

A Hydra minion pressed his gun muzzle firmer into Sam’s temple causing Sam to stop. He would have to plan this carefully.

“What do you plan to do?” Lukin asked probingly.

Dr. Brubaker puffed out his chest ready to share what he wanted to say.

“Simple, using these with a slight electric current and a computer to enter in dates these time travel beetles will create a portal, using the portal we can send the Asset back to, let’s pick 1935, when Captain Rogers was at his weakest and most vulnerable, and have the Asset kill Captain Steve Rogers before he ever has a chance to become Captain America.”

Lukin reached to his belt slowly, almost as if gripping his belt buckle, but pararescue man inside Sam, formed from boot camp and the hot deserts of Afghanistan, caused the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck to rise.

Brubaker kept talking, likely unaware of the hidden threat.

“Send me back in time, and I’ll make sure the plan succeeds and return your Asset back to you and to a more powerful Hydra, you won’t even know the difference.”

Lukin’s face slowly became more pondering, he nodded as if he had come to a decision, one he found agreeable.

He then pulled out his gun and shot Brubaker in the head at point-blank range.

Before Brubaker’s body hit the floor, Lukin began to bark orders to the Hydra minions in Russian and then gestured to the prisoners he suddenly had to take care of.

The guards eyed them warily before they began to frog march Sam, Clint and Natasha into another room, unaware of Sam’s looser shoelaces, or the angle Clint held his wrists or Natasha’s careful posture.

***Brooklyn New York, 1935 ***

“So, you’ve got enough for movie tickets?” Bucky asked, mentally calculating if he had enough coins to pay if Steve came up short.

Steve’s mother had been working extra hours while the spring pollen had given Steve a sinus infection so bad he missed school for five days. His doctor had given him radiotherapy treatment to treat the sinusitis, and Sarah Rogers had put in extra shifts at the ward to pay off the cost of the x-rays needed to treat her child.

Steve had been cutting back on some of the luxuries such as penny candy to help his mom with the bills, but today Sarah insisted her son go out to enjoy the warmer spring weather after the pollen died down a little and go to the movies.

Arnie had gotten a new job and he wanted to celebrate, and Bucky agreed that watching the Bride of Frankenstein would be the perfect way to usher in Arnie’s new job. And thanks to Arnie's idea of them pooling the coins together to buy the tickets, Steve would feel like he paid for his own ticket, and perhaps some popcorn too.

“I’ve got enough, Buck,” Steve insisted and Bucky, aware of his friend’s pride, let the subject of the price of movie tickets drop.

“Think the monster will find love like the movie title suggests or do you think it would be more like the book?” Steve deflected, and Bucky paused.

“I think it’ll be more like the book,” Bucky sighed, “But I think Arnie will like it.”

“You and Arnie like anything science-y,” Steve pointed out, and Bucky did not look ashamed in the slightest, especially as he knows how many fantasy books Steve had checked out from the library last week.

“That’s where our future lies Stevie,” Bucky insisted, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders, to jostle him playfully.

“Lay off Buck,” Steve laughed and the boys roughhoused a few feet down the block then turned around a corner to take the alleyway the boys frequently used as a shortcut because the business owners knew Bucky’s parents, and thus normally looked out for the boys when they made the shortcut. Today the alleyway was unusually silent.

The boys kept playing for a bit before Bucky noticed Steve pause.

They then heard something scrape on the roof to Steve’s right. Bucky paused and shifted nervously, the source of the sound moving to cut the boys off from the street, and it leaped down a few stories to the ground below.

The figure reached the ground, and like a black tire twisted and rolled towards them before landing on their feet.

“What the h—” Bucky began before he got a good look, a good look at the figure.

He was a tall man, about as tall as Bucky’s dad, in what looked like a tight black straight jacket, long stringy hair obscured half the man’s face with beady black glass goggles like those of riveters concealing an alien face.

Shit, Bucky thought to himself, the last thing he wanted was for the two of them to get mugged.

Steve predictively stepped forward.

“What do you want?” Steve demanded.

The Stranger stood to face the boys in stoic silence.

Bucky’s heart rattled in his ribcage demanding the boys flee like his instincts saw this man as a deadly threat that neither could fight off.

He reached forward, everything in him was screaming to block this stranger from Steve, take his friend, and run to the theater. Or fork over the money and run straight to the police.

“I said, what do you want?” Steve repeated.

Bucky balled his hands into fists, he knew how this ended.

“Steve… I’ve got a bad feeling about this…” Bucky urged fruitlessly.

The Stranger stalked forward in slow determined steps, eating the ground with dangerous efficiency.

Steve puffed up a little and brought up his dukes.

Bucky remembered a letter his Ma had received from relatives who still lived in Shelbyville where a large tawny mountain lion had been driven out of the woods by a forest fire and had taken a liking to house cats as little snacks.

Looking at Steve and the stranger, Bucky couldn’t help but make the comparison, and Steve—the little alley cat he was—was gearing up to take on the mountain lion.

Bucky could hear footsteps behind them and realized they were trapped.

The Stranger reached into his pocket and Bucky realized the arm was a metallic looking robot arm and in the hand was a knife, which he swung at Steve’s neck.

Steve however dodged, but he screamed and clutched his scalp as he scrambled back, and Bucky felt sick when he saw red dripping from the blade.

Then Bucky did the most reckless and stupid thing he’d ever do, but he wasn’t about to let this Stranger hurt his friend.

The Stranger swung his bladed fist back, and Bucky sprung forward to tackle the man before he struck Steve again.

Bucky wrapped his arms around the man’s torso, and to keep the man distracted Bucky gripped the man’s belt, his right-hand grabbing something hard and metal, while the left gripped the man’s belt.

Weirdly enough, though Bucky assumed that would get him stabbed, the Stranger didn’t turn the knife on the reckless teenager. He didn’t even use his free hand to hit him in the head, but instead punched the boy in the chest.

Bucky’s ribs roared with pain, and his left hand slipped and the belt came out of his hand.

The Stranger shoved Bucky to the ground and the boy struggled to his feet.

Bucky’s heart was roaring in his ears and his stomach tightened as if he had swallowed a large lead ball as Steve stood over him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Steve exclaimed, and the Stranger swung back with his empty right fist and slugged Steve in the face.

Steve stumbled and collapsed between the corner between two buildings.

Then the Stranger paused as if he was suddenly drunk or light-headed, and Bucky took the opportunity to scramble to Steve’s side.

Steve was out cold, his irregular heart flickered, but like the stubborn little punk he was, still beat strong, his breathing was a slow wheeze.

Bucky felt a slight relief that Steve was alright, gently cradling Steve’s head to get it off of the ground and ease his breathing. The sounds of uneven footsteps made Bucky look up. The Stranger had recovered from whatever was making him light-headed.

Bucky’s hand tightened around the metal object, and Bucky glanced down to realized he had snagged a strange small grey gun.

“Who the hell are you?” Bucky asked aloud, and the stranger said nothing.

Bucky pointed the gun at the man.

“I said, who the hell are you!”

***Siberia Russia, 1991***

Sam shifted his bound hands lower until his fingers brushed his shoelaces, the plastic nylon parachute cord smooth and difficult to grip. His knees were aching from kneeling on the hard concrete floor, and Sam tried to shift his weight so his knees wouldn’t fall asleep.

“Why don’t you just give up?” The guard muttered in contemptuous English, “Your Captain will be dead in an hour, and there’s no way you’re going to get out in time, that is if we can confirm your identities. It’s over.”

Sam ignored him and hunched forward a little, his hands slightly closer to his shoelaces, and he ducked his chin a little.

The guard lifted his chin, looking a little smug from under Sam’s eyelashes, and marched to the hall and slammed the door behind him, instantly locking shut.

Sam glanced at Natasha and Clint as his fingers began working on the laces of both his shoes.

Natasha wiggled her arms, causing the elbows to contort as she brought her wrists over her head, her hands twisting under the plastic and the zip ties broke.

Clint’s hands squeezed and Clint twisted his left hand out of its bindings, and Sam tied his shoelaces and moved his hands up and side to side to saw the binding zip ties off.

Once Sam’s arms were free he massaged his shoulders, and tied his shoelaces, here he’d need the mobility.

Natasha pulled out one of her widow stings, from where Sam could only guess, but assumed that where she hid it should remain a secret.

Clint gestured to the vents, Sam nodded, and quietly crept to under the vent.

Sam cupped his hands to lift Clint up, and Natasha snuck to the door, ready to strike the guard.

The guard, to check on the prisoners opened the door, Natasha was on him in an instant, the guard was muffled, knocked out, and tied up and left in a corner with swift efficiency, Natasha catching the gun before it could have been swung at her or dropped to the ground.

“It’s not over, it’s not even too late,” Sam muttered to the guard, not caring that he didn’t hear him.

Sam gestured for Natasha to hurry up and the trio disappeared into the vents, Clint in the lead, Natasha’s feet were the only thing in the dark that Sam could see. The cold metal vents, seams in the metal, and the air currents flowing over Sam’s ears and down his neck were the only things he could focus on as he mentally calculated how quickly they had to move before the portal closed and it would be too late.

Sam almost missed Natasha’s feet stopping in the low light, but he was thankful he didn’t crash into her shoes.

Cautious, in case his voice would carry, Sam tapped on her foot four times in the form of a question, also so she’d know it was him and not some weird accident.

Her toe tapped into his palm, and then Sam heard the faint shuffling sounds up ahead before Natasha started moving.

Sam followed and was thankful to see Natasha slip out of the vent and on to the ground floor below.

Sam shifted so he’d land feet first and caught the knife Clint tossed his way.

Clint quietly reported what he could see some guards around the corner, using his hands to sign the report, and Sam nodded, and they pressed themselves against the wall and waited to spring an attack.

The Guards passed them without looking, and they down the hall when the footsteps faded, and they scrambled down the hall trying to retrace their steps to the room where the Portal would have to be…

Clint almost took a wrong turn, but Natasha managed to drag both men around the correct corner and quietly chastised them before they found the room.

The Portal was a big and weirdly green-blue, and it looked like the Winter Soldier already went in.

Lukin turned, the red book in hand, a gun in the other.

Sam dodged the bullet before Sam threw the knife at Lukin’s leg. Before Lukin could shoot again Natasha took him down with a well-placed sting and kick.

Clint started rifling through his pockets, and grabbed something, and then rushed over to the computer to unplug the first time-suspender from it.

The Portal quivered and the three rushed in before it closed.

***Brooklyn New York, 1935***

When their vision cleared, Clint saw what was up ahead, and his heart leaped to his throat.

Surrounded by old time posters, among the garbage cans was a familiar pair of teenagers and a ghost he had only heard Natasha spoke of with fear.

The Winter Soldier must have been hit by something, or his programming was thrown off because he clutched at his head, weaving a little like he was dizzy, while one of the teenagers, the small blond one who must have been Steve laid prone on the ground. The other teenager was crouched protectively over and shouting for the other man to identify himself if Clint’s hearing aids were to be believed.

The portal behind them buzzed like an electric charge on the skin before fading from existence. Only one time-suspender remained missing, and Clint had a feeling the handler that one of the Winter Soldier’s handlers had it.

They’d have to track that down after they ensured the boys were safe, though. Steve and Bucky were priority number one.

Teenaged Bucky stood up, shouting at the Winter Soldier before the assassin knocked the gun from the boy’s hand, Bucky never really stood a chance against his older self and the man

Clint didn’t want to be there if the teenager ever figured out the identity of his attacker, finding out you’re being attacked by your future-self has to be against the rules for time traveling.

They had to move quickly, and Clint saw a tiny rock that would work perfectly.

Clint flicked the small rock—more of a dull chip really—and it bounced off the Winter soldier’s cheek, causing the man to jump from the unexpected impact to the face.

Natasha then kicked the Winter Soldier off his feet and she was on her feet in an instant to pin the Winter Soldier down.

The startled Bucky dropped his gun in favor of shield Steve from the sudden violence, and Sam was quick to grab the gun before someone got hurt.

Clint was already there to scoop Steve up like he was a kid, while Sam held out his hand and gently coaxed a weary Bucky to follow them. The kid was cradling his ribs, which Clint suspected the kid had taken a hit too, and suddenly worried that the Winter Soldier might have inadvertently killed himself by giving his younger self internal-bleeding.

Clint had to file it away with worry for the moment, but some of the Wakandan scanners in his pocket will hopefully alleviate his fears.

“Where are you taking us?” Bucky asked sharply and in fear.

“Somewhere safe,” Sam answered softly, his body language open and reassuring as he held a hand out for Bucky to take.

“Who are you?” The boy asked, well, technically a man, but Clint looked at both young men, and with the tired experience of adults who have seen too much, couldn’t help but categorize them as “babies” much like he did each time he looked at Wanda.

But Clint, remembering being the independent little Amazing Hawkeye in a hostile world at the end of his violently short childhood, didn’t let the rosy tint of idealized childhood nostalgia remove the dignity and agency that came with the boys’ rise into maturity.

“I’m Sam, and I’m a friend,” Sam repeated, and Clint was relieved that Bucky instead of focusing on Sam’s skin, instead looked them in the eyes. Bucky took a deep breath and with his free left hand, took Sam’s open hand.

“What was that?” Bucky asked worriedly looking back at Natasha as the Winter Soldier pushed her off and made a rapid exit to regroup, Natasha backing up so she’d more effectively guard the boys instead.

“A ghost,” she answered, not wanting Bucky to know the true identity of the Winter Soldier.

Bucky didn’t look pleased, but Clint knew that he had little reason to trust them besides the fact that they had just driven away a hostile stranger.

When the boy wasn’t looking, Clint saw Sam tuck the gun into one of his pockets. Clint didn’t want to think what would happen if the modern-ish gun fell into the wrong hands during the great depression.

“Let’s get you guys checked out and cleaned up.” Sam offered instead, letting Bucky take the lead.

Bucky eyed them suspiciously before he made a decision, then lead them to a small rear tenant not far from where the boys were attacked, he pulled out a key under a nearby brick, which Clint thought was really stupid, someone could break in and rob the inhabitants blind, and unlocked to reveal a sparsely furnished empty apartment.

Clint gently placed Steve down on one of the soft chairs and Sam began examining Steve.

“I don’t see any signs of concussion, but Steve’s going to be sore when he wakes up, and we’re going to need to fix the cut,” Sam reported softly

“How do you know his name!?” Bucky asked suspiciously before he gritted his teeth and fought off some pain in his middle.

“It’s a long story, but uh, we’re from the future?” Clint tried to explain.

Sam turned to Clint with a raised eyebrow.

“What, he’s smart enough to smell bull—I mean lies from a mile off,” Clint answered as he walked over to the stove and stoked the fire with some coal, spotting the coffee percolator nearby.

Sam then nodded and pulled out a small tube full of healing nanobots designed by Dr. Cho, which, after using some alcohol to clean the cut, he spread the ointment medium on the wound. The nanobots then began the process of knitting the wound closed without creating scar tissue.

“Whoa, alright, so you are from the future,” Bucky relented a little, his eyes not leaving Sam’s fingertips which were still coated with the ointment, glowing faintly blue from the activating nanobots which were searching for damaged tissue to repair, but finding none, “Or aliens from Mars.”

“Whichever makes sense to you,” Natasha added cryptically eyeing Bucky closely. “How’s your chest?”

“It’s fine,” Bucky rushed to reassure her, blushing a little under the full force of her expression, which Clint wasn’t going to lie, could be pretty intimidating.

“Well, if you need anything, I have a slight pain killer which will have the added benefit of healing that sore chest of yours,” Natasha added, pulling out a small bottle of pills from one of her pouches. “But it has the side effect of making you a little sleepy.”

Steve moaned in pain as he started to rouse, and Clint had been hurt enough to know the kind of pain might be headache-related.

“Will it help him too?” Bucky asked gesturing to Steve.

“Yes.”

Bucky eyed them carefully, but then Steve began to wake.

“Bucky?” Steve asked confusedly.

Clint saw the percolator start to bubble at the perfect temperature and grabbed a couple of mugs. Clint poured the coffee under Bucky’s watchful eye, and being fully aware of this, performed the whole task under full transparency.

“Here, drink this, it’s just coffee,” Clint offered, and the two teenagers, began to drink it, and Natasha offered the boys the pain relievers.

Steve clutched is head, in too much pain to care about the strangers in his apartment, took the pill and swallowed it with a swig of coffee before surrendering back to sleep, complaining about a migraine drowsily, which Sam closed the curtains shut to protect Steve’s eyes.

“Those always suck,” Sam agreed, and Bucky decided to trust them as he took his own pill.

“I’ll walk you home,” Natasha offered, which Bucky accepted with a nod.

Clint nodded as he as Sam went outside to scan the neighborhood for the Winter Soldier and his handler, while Natasha would escort Bucky home safe and sound.

*******

Natasha eyed the surrounding crowd, borrowing one of Mrs. Roger’s inexpensive dresses to blend in, while she escorted Bucky down the tenement and on to the street, following Bucky’s direction to his family apartment.

Bucky started to look a little queasy, and Natasha worried that Bucky might have had the unexpected side effect of nausea on top of drowsiness, but when another teenager ran up to them calling out Bucky’s name, Bucky gave the other teen boy a grin.

“Arnie!”

“Arnie” ran up to them, ignoring Natasha, his eyes focused solely on his friend.

“Where were you and Steve? Are you alright?” Arnie asked, sounding concern.

“Yeah, Steve’s got a migraine, and I think I ate something that’s not agreeing with me.” Bucky excused.

Arnie reached out to help Bucky, and Natasha let him go. She stood back to keep watch but the two didn’t talk much, mostly because Bucky’s nausea sold the “Food poisoning” excuse, and Arnie just cared about getting his friend home and comfortable and appeared to keep an eye out for trash cans in case Bucky needed to vomit.

Natasha decided to look up what happened to the kid after she returned to the present if Arnie was still alive, and if he and the old fossils were still friends, she had a feeling these they should be reunited.

“I’ll try again tomorrow if you guys are feeling up to it, and I’ll have a little bit more money to pool together, we might even get Steve some candy,” Arnie offered, before Bucky turned a little green, “Right sorry, let’s not talk about food.”

“Thanks,” Bucky grunted, as they began to climb some apartment stairs, and Natasha stepped back when she saw them approach a door and she disappeared into the background and into the crowds outside.

Then she took to the roofs where she began to systematically search for the Winter Soldier and his handler while making her way back to Sam and Clint, but her tracker chip she implanted on the Winter Soldier when she tackled him and she had yet to boot up the software on her phone because she didn’t want to drain the battery before they were ready to track him down.

Sam spotted her as soon as she approached Steve’s place and waved her down.

“Alright, we still need to track down the final time-suspender to make sure they don’t try to come back and finish the job,” Sam muttered as Steve started snoring from his bed, the medication required the body to sleep to tap into the body’s natural healing process, but Steve would be feeling great by the time he woke up, so Natasha wasn’t worried.

“Well, I left a small tracker on his person, so if we boot up my phone’s software we might be able to track him down,” Natasha offered.

Clint and Sam looked at her, and she knew them long enough to know that they were surprised that they hadn’t thought of that.

Picking up the Rogers’ spare key, Natasha pulled out her phone, one she rarely uses to prevent being tracked and pulled up the app, and while the app was developing its own wi-fi.

Natasha changed and put Sarah Roger’s dress back on the hanger without a crease or any evidence it had been worn, and looked at Steve’s sleeping form, tempted to take a picture to tease Cap when they arrived back to 2018.

But decided not to, nobody would believe that this sleeping angel was their spitfire teenaged version of Captain America.

They filed out and Natasha locked Steve inside his own apartment, then hid the key discretely underneath the brick Bucky pulled it out, fighting the temptation of securing the key with some sort of booby trap to protect the Rogers from any nardo-well, but didn’t want it to backfire and hurt Steve, his mother, Bucky, or Arnie in case of emergency. She decided she’d settle to lecturing a safe and sound Steve since they had just prevented Steve’s assassination.

Now to make sure they prevent Bucky’s execution in 2014…

Her phone pinged, and she lead them on to the roof of the buildings, and in moments they were in pursuit, away from the curious eyes of Steve’s neighbors, and after a few moments, the tracking chip pinged, and pinged again in a different spot a few yards away. Good, the Winter Soldier was still likely wearing the chip, and that might make tracking him down all the easier.

Or so Natasha hoped.

The roofs of nineteen thirties Brooklyn were quiet during this time of day, and thankfully made it cartoonish easy to track down the bad guy who was currently trying to get a computer the size of a tile slab the size of a brick to work, Natasha could hear him curse in Russian, and could see that the man was planning on running back to 1991 for either reinforcements or supplies, and the portal appeared right as they reached the correct rooftop.

The Winter Soldier crouched nearby like a bored guard dog and the Hydra Agent saw them approaching, and the blue-green portal appeared before them, and Natasha saw a glimpse of the Siberia facility up ahead.

Natasha caught a glimpse of Sam passing the gun to Clint, and they charged.

The Hydra Agent barked orders for the Asset to go ahead, and the Winter Soldier rushed through the portal without a second order while the Agent ran after, with the computer and time-suspender in the air.

Clint didn’t hesitate to shoot the suspender as the white cicada looking device shatter, closing the portal right behind the Agent and the livid face of Lukin was behind them.

“Well, that was the last of the missing time suspenders, now let’s see what the damage is in our real time,” Clint announced, and Natasha held her hand out for the time suspender, thankful that cellphones had quickly outstripped 1990s computer tech in the last 27 years. Clint handed it over without a word, and she waited to see what the software would look like on her phone.

“I have a feeling we’ll find out, but I’m feeling hopeful.” Sam mused as the Portal appeared before them, and the lab in 2018 with a nervous looking T’Challa on the other end.

They entered the portal and were greeted by T’Challa, Stark, Scott, Steve and Bucky, the last two healthy and whole.

Natasha barely hid her relief behind a mask, but she could see Bucky, what was left of Yasha from so long ago picked up her concealed expression.

“So how was time traveling?” Steve asked.

“You were one hell of a teenager Cap, I don’t know how your mother did it,” Sam teased, and Steve laughed.

“Now maybe you can solve an argument Bucky and I have been having for the past eighty-three years,” Steve began, his eyes lighting up with a sudden epiphany, “see I think we picked a fight, but the memory got fuzzy and I had a headache so I can’t remember what happened, but Bucky swears up and down that I tackled a mountain lion, I believe we fought a robot, and we were rescued by a trio of coffee making Martians.”

Sam, Clint, and Natasha looked at each other before Sam said with a broad grin. “All of it was true Cap.”

“Looks like we owe Arnie a nickel, god rest his soul.” Bucky sighed sadly.

Natasha had a feeling that Cap and Bucky just missed their friend, and later research would prove her right by six months.

“But wait, what about what happened in 2014…” Natasha realized, looking at Bucky’s perfectly uninjured forehead.

“What happened in 2014?” Stark asked worriedly, then Sam glanced at the gun.

“Nothing, we prevented that death before it could happen,” He explained, examining the gun’s caliber, which looked a lot like the caliber of the gunshot wound that killed the Winter Solider in the uncorrected time loop. Natasha put two and two together, and felt even more relieved, of course, Bucky would protect, or avenge his friend, but he didn’t need to because they got there in time.

“Told that asshole, it’s not over until it’s too late,” Sam said smugly.

***Epilogue***

Sarah Rogers was surprised to find her son abed when she got home early from work, or that there was a faint scent of coffee waiting for her on the now cold stove.

The Coffee was still pleasantly hot, and she was surprised at how well it tasted, but she attributed it to the one in one thousand chances of getting the combo right, since Steve wasn’t an expert at coffee making, but she still kissed her son on the forehead for his thoughtfulness, and he stirred.

“Go back to sleep sonny boy, ma’s here.” She whispered softly.

“Mom?” Steve asked baffled, gently rubbing his head, and then looking at his hand in mild surprise. “I-I had the strangest dream, see I had a headache and I dreamed that I was fighting some sort of robot.”

Sarah smiled softly, “Sounds like it was some dream.”

“Yeah, oh no the movie!”

“I bumped into Arnie on my way home, he told me that Bucky ate something that didn’t agree with him, so the movie’s tomorrow.”

“You’ll let me skip church to see it?” Steve asked in surprised, and Sarah looked at him firmly.

“After church,” Sarah corrected sternly, and held it even though Steve yawned a little, “Go back to sleep son, I’m not going anywhere. And thank you for the coffee.”

“One of the Martians made it,” Steve just muttered, already falling asleep.

Sarah just chuckled to herself as her only child—creative mind and all—drifted asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, you can look at the art at the following links:  
> [The Artist decidedlyartsy](http://decidedlyartsy.tumblr.com/)  
> The Starter image where [Bucky is protecting Steve.](https://i.imgur.com/01O9xuE.jpg)


End file.
